


then let's do our very best to fake it

by lovelyleias



Series: DQ Valentine's Day Treats 2018 [4]
Category: Deltora Quest - Emily Rodda
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, sweet kids making the best of a terrible situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleias/pseuds/lovelyleias
Summary: He would be brave. Brave-- like she was.





	then let's do our very best to fake it

Time was running out. If he made even one mistake, all would be lost. Already he was cornered, and quickly running out of moves.

Endon bit his lip as he stared harder at the game board.

“Do you want me to help you?” Sharn did not attempt to hide the laughter in her voice. Her scarlet-painted lips curled in a mischievous smile.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I need just a moment.”

They were seated on their bedroom floor upon soft cushions. Bowls of fresh fruits and cream lay beside them, and they were separated by the yellow-and-blue checkered game board. Endon tapped his finger against one of his little yellow tiles. Her blue pieces greatly outnumbered what he had left on the board, and she had stacked the tiles she had captured from him like a hoard of treasure.

His only hope was to sacrifice a tile, for Sharn had trapped him completely, and pray that it would allow him to make a better move on his next turn. With a sigh, he slide one of his tiles forward. Sharn cried out in triumph, and skipped her tile over his. She collected his forfeited piece, and placed it at the top of her pile.

“You are enjoying this far too much,” Endon smiled at his wife and leaned back on his hands. Losing was almost worth it, if it meant he could see the delight on her face.

Sharn dipped a ruby-coloured berry into the bowl of cream and popped it into her mouth. “Oh, I certainly am.”

The sound of the door opening caused them both to turn. Prandine had entered the bedroom without knocking, wearing a thin smile on his face. A ring of elaborate keys dangled from his fingers. Endon felt a heavy twist of guilt in his belly, as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

“Good evening, your majesties,” Prandine said indulgently, as if talking to small children. “I had not heard from you for quite a while, and I worried. I am glad to see all is well.”

Sharn laughed, a tinkling and charming sound, like wind chimes caught in a breeze. The clever young woman who had just teased him was gone. In her place was a girl, a child, who sat on the floor and looked up at Prandine with happy, empty eyes. Once again, Endon was struck by a wave of unease. “We are very well, Prandine,” she said sweetly. “We are playing a game.”

“I can see that,” Prandine’s eyes drifted to the beautifully carved table in the centre of the cavernous room. “And do you not wish to be properly seated, my queen?”

“I told Endon it would be more fun to play it on the floor,” she said. That, at least, was true.

Endon copied Sharn’s smile as Prandine turned to him. “Is there something we are needed for, or may we play a little longer?” he asked politely.

Prandine gave him a satisfied nod. “I would not dream of interrupting you,” he left the room with a bow, closing the cream-and-gold door behind him.

Endon shifted on his cushion to face his wife. Her fists were clenched tightly in her lap, turning her knuckles white. She was herself once more, even if she was displeased.

“He has a key to our bedroom,” she said with deceptive mildness. “Somehow, I did not know.”

“He has a key to every room,” Endon defended his advisor half-heartedly. It had been nearly four years since he had thought of Prandine as his true protector; nearly four years since Jarred had fled from the palace. Prandine had told him that Jarred had thrown himself into the sea to escape his shame and fear, but Endon had never felt that to be true. And as time passed he had even began to question the accusations Prandine had flung at Jarred that terrible morning.

Sharn shook her head, but relaxed her hands.

“I wish you did not have to act as you do around him,” Endon said softly. “It makes me worry for you.”

She gazed at him, her eyes full of fondness. “He would not care for the person I am,” she told him simply.

It hurt Endon’s heart to dwell too much upon that, but he knew she was right. He could not risk losing her: she had become a bright light in the vast darkness of the palace. He had known her only a year, but it had been the best year since the death of his parents and the loss of his dearest friend.

“I care for you,” he said almost shyly, feeling his face grow warm.

Sharn smiled— her true and lovely smile— and stretched across the board to kiss his cheek. As she leaned back, she picked up one of her tiles and skipped it across his last four pieces.

“I win.”


End file.
